


Fade

by debit



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debit/pseuds/debit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The entire situation is sick. Xander, in bed and waiting, doesn’t even try to delude himself about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written August 2000

The entire situation is sick. Xander, in bed and waiting, doesn’t even try to delude himself about this.

Sick.

He's taken to wearing high necked shirts with long sleeves even though the weather has been warmer than usual. No visits to the beach for Xander in the near future, no sir. And at first he thought someone would notice or comment. Would maybe question why his fashion sense, always a source of amusement for others, had gone from questionable to uncomfortable. But no one notices. He is invisible boy in sweltering clothes.

At first he found this a relief. Then later, he was angry in a bewildered sort of way. If he was character in a novel, someone would have noticed.

But then, if someone had noticed, they might have noticed other things and questioned them. Like why he's so pale. Why he can't seem to hold on to a job for more than a couple of weeks. Why he's always so tired. But if those things are questioned, then other things may be questioned until the answers are out in the open.

And then he'd have to stop.

And he doesn't want to.

And yes, he knows that's sick too.

But, he can stop anytime he wants. It's not like this means anything. Much. There is no grand romance here, no International Coffee moments. Hell, Spike doesn't even talk to him most of the time, except to bitch about being out of cigarettes or to tell him how much better their quality of life would be with cable.

They didn't even talk about how they came to this particular arrangement, how that first night Xander woke to find Spike sitting on his bed, one hand idly stroking Xander's cock, the other holding a knife. Offering it to him.

Nope, no grand romance, because Spike simply raised an eyebrow and asked, "Where do you want it?" Not even a pretense of something else, something more. Just simple hunger and casual arrogance, sure that Xander would comply.

Xander had looked at the knife, at Spike's hand playing with his cock, at the intent and hungry look on Spike's face.

And silently took the knife.

And told himself then that he'd just been testing the blade, wasn't actually going to cut himself, wasn't going to let Spike feed from him. But the thin, sharp blade that didn't require any pressure at all to part the flesh high on his inner thigh. Very sharp, because it didn't even have time to hurt before Spike was there.

Just a delicate lap at first. Then a breathy moan and hard suction. Spike's mouth, cool and moist, sucking, his tongue licking and probing, his suddenly hard and ridged face pressed tightly against Xander's leg.

When Xander couldn't help but gasp out a shocked, "No" and tried to pull away, Spike grabbed him by the hips and held him still. And he could have pushed Spike away. He's sure of that. But then Spike made a noise like a low growl and rubbed the curve of his skull against Xander's aching cock, the gelled hair raspy like a cat's tongue--

\--and Xander came. Long and hard, shuddering and gasping. And fell asleep with Spike still nuzzling him.

The next morning Xander woke up alone and Spike hadn't even looked at him. He might have almost thought he'd dreamed it except for the very tender cut surrounded by a livid bruise. The hickey from hell. Right at the crease of his thigh. He'd lightly touched the wound while he showered and moaned aloud at his cock's immediate reaction. And fled out in the sunlight as soon as he'd thrown some clothes over his still wet body.

He'd told himself all day that he was going to lay down some ground rules that night. No dirty clothes on the floor, no smoking, no going upstairs. No more homoerotic blood play. No matter what his cock might think.

Spike had calmly listened to Xander's stuttered demands, shrugged and said, "Whatever you want, mate."

And, yes, Xander should have known better to accept this at face value, because he'd awoken later to find Spike pressed against his back, mouthing at the pulse in his throat.

"You sneaking little liar. Get off."

Spike lifted his head and murmured into Xander's ear, "I said 'whatever you want.'" One hand rested on Xander's abdomen, the fingers spread wide and lightly rubbing. He licked at Xander's ear and asked, "Isn't this what you want?"

And he really hadn't thought so but--

\--Spike's arm wrapped around him holding him still, his erection sliding over the thin cotton of Xander's boxers while Spike's hips gently rocked. Spike's hand, stroking the skin over his stomach when he shivered and his other hand pressing the knife into Xander's lax fingers and--

"So pretty, Xander." Low voice and cool lips. "You taste so good, so sweet." Another lick and that voice, so soft and caressing just like the hand now on his cock and--

His hand, his hand had raised the blade. His hand let it run over the fleshy part of his shoulder, the back of his neck. Two quick slashes and his hand hadn't even trembled. Just dropped the knife on the pillow and reached back to cradle Spike's head, to hold it close while Spike fastened his lips to each wound, back and forth.

He let his own head drop to the pillow, let his hips push his ass back against Spike, then his cock up into Spike's hand, heard his voice making the same noises as Spike's and--

Spike shuddered and the small of his back was wet and Xander bite his lip hard enough to draw blood when he came a second later.

It was then he decided that once was, well, once and twice was…sick.

But really, it didn't seem that bad with Spike still wrapped around him, still making those noises in the back of his throat while he sucked and licked. Totally focused on Xander and that was still sick, but…different and just before he fell asleep, Xander wondered just how far this would go.

Now, a couple of months later he knew. Pretty far. It would only take just one look in the mirror to confirm this.

Thin, pale scars everywhere. Mostly on his neck and shoulders. Some on his chest and inner thighs. A few on his ankles, thicker there because they never healed completely before Spike opened them again. Sometimes he thinks he can feel them throb in his sleep.

Not that he's sleeping much these days. He's adjusted to Spike time and finds himself awake until near dawn every day no matter how tired he is.

Tonight he's very tired.

Spike looks at him sharply before crawling to his side and propping his head on one hand. Frowns. "You look different." He reaches out, pushes a heavy fall of hair off Xander's forehead. "Must be the hair getting long."

Xander can only gape at him before laughing in weak hysteria, but Spike only cocks an eyebrow and lets his fingers ghost over the most recent wound right along Xander's collar bone.

The laughter fades and his mouth goes dry when Spike lowers his head and traces the cut with his tongue, works at it with his lips until it stings and Xander knows it's open again.

And Spike draws back far enough to look at him, his mouth swollen and slick, then kisses him, shows him how he tastes to Spike; copper and salt with a smoky undertone from the cigarette Spike just finished.

And he doesn't even have to ask where anymore, doesn't even have to wait, because he pulls back, kneels between Xander's legs before pushing them apart and slinging one over his shoulder. He'll feed some more later while holding Xander in a parody of an embrace, but right now…

Now he lifts Xander's hips and guides his cock in. Easily, since Xander's already slick.

Spike watches Xander closely while he fills him. Always so careful when they do this, so intent. Sometimes he stops, trembling and groaning and clutching his head and Xander knows what Spike really wants to do is thrust in hard and fast and rough, to fuck him until he bleeds.

Instead he, he starts a slow, easy rhythm before bending his head to Xander's ankle and sucking roughly. Still watching Xander's face, Xander's hand working his cock, watching his cock as it slides in and out of Xander's ass. So intent, like he's drinking in the fuck along with the blood and Xander dimly wonders if it's always been this way for Spike, if sex and blood have always been connected or if it's just like this with him.

And that makes him fist his cock a little faster, to thrust back a little harder. Makes him keep his eyes open even though they really want to close and there's the look he wants, the one where Spike's face goes hard and his eyes gleam and he's staring at Xander, taking everything in, taking everything and Xander thinks that someday Spike is really going to take everything, is going to drain him until there's nothing left.

And comes, knowing this is sick and he can stop anytime he wants to.

If he wants to.


End file.
